


Make a wish

by JauntyHako



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boarding School, Bullying, Dean to the Rescue, Fluff, M/M, Sexual harrassment by a third party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's the odd one out. The freak. The guy who gets his books knocked out of his arms.<br/>And now his new room mate is Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a wish

**Author's Note:**

> God, I've been writing on and off on this for months, here and there a sentence. Now I finally decided to finish it.  
> This is not as explicit or has any heartfelt love confessions like usual, making it sort of open-ended.  
> Hope you like it! :)

Castiel's the odd one out. The freak. The guy who gets his books knocked out of his arms.

 

Sure, with a name like _Castiel_ , having to explain every single time that it has nothing to do with middle earth and everything with his late mother's fascination for angels, it's not like he has had good chances to begin with. 

But even if he had a normal name like William or Robert, he knows in his heart that it wouldn't change anything. He'd still be the scrawny kid with the 'creepy stare'. Who after he's heard that people call his eyes creepy, never looks at anyone in conversation again and gets stuck with another version of creepy to his reputation.

 

When his Dad calls he never tells him any of that. He tells him he has friends and there's a girl he's seeing. It's another girl's name everytime Dad calls - which isn't often so he doesn't have to make himself a whore - and he makes up details to make his father's suspicious tone go away.

Rebecca likes volleyball. Nancy cooks the best spaghetti. Darla has a St. Bernard named Rufus.

 

It doesn't matter, nothing of it. Castiel doesn't care about people at school calling him a creep and a fag. His father - who's traveling across the country preaching about the sins of the 21st century - firmly believes his son is straight.

 

And now his new room mate is Dean Winchester.

 

As of now he's had a room to himself. The school's seen better days and a lot of rooms in the west wing are actually empty. There are only a few students there but they all had to get relocated when  _someone_ \- Castiel doesn't think about Dean and his gang because he doesn't make judgmentes before knowing all the facts - set the whole west wing on fire. Nobody gets hurt, nobody gets caught. But the damage from the fire and water mean that the dorm rooms are uninhabitable. 

 

"You just have to cuddle together for a semester. Two tops." Dean Singer says and flicks his cigarette butt down the drain. Most students are used to having their own rooms and some already start complaining about being punished for something some idiot did.

Castiel doesn't complain. He never does.

 

 

Dean's loud and obnoxious and he calls him 'angel' at every opportunity like he's the first to have invented that nickname. It grates on Castiel's nerves the first two weeks but then he just accepts it.

Leaves the room when Dean tells him to get lost - likely because he wants to have a girl over - and spends the night in the library. Mrs Harvelle gave him the key months ago. It's his one place of refuge.

Outside the others still knock his books out of his arms. Still leave him notes in the locker that he's a fag and should already kill himself. Still draw doodles of him getting raped by various crudely drawn penises or household appliances.

Castiel doesn't care. He doesn't.

 

 

But then one day Dean sits above his homework that he really needs to finish if he doesn't want his father to know how badly he's doing and looks so desperate and clueless that Castiel simply has to help him.

So he does, explains what the French Revolution had to do with the States being what they are today.

Sits across Dean on his bed and questions him about it. Leans over Dean to proof-read his essay on the subject. Feels Deans hand brush across his as he asks what he thinks about that particular paragraph.

He draws back, quickly, and feels like a creep.

 

Dean stops insulting him at every turn though. And when he calls him 'angel' it doesn't sound so scalding anymore.

Next time he has some friends over for TV and popcorn he allows Castiel to stay. Glares at Tyke when he makes a comment about the creepy fag.

Castiel refuses to feel flattered at Dean deathglaring at people on his behalf.

It's actually rather nice. For the first time he spends the evening with people for fun. No work assignments, no duty. Just a couple of people watching a movie.

A hand on his thigh makes him stiffen. For half a second he thinks - hopes - it's Dean. Of course it's not. It's one of the girls and she winks at him when he turns his head a little.

He tries to push her hand away but everytime he tries she just returns a bit higher. So he sits silently and endures it until the movie is over and Dean steps outside with his friends to chat a while before they have to return to their respective rooms.

Only the girl doesn't leave.

Her name is Anne - Castiel thinks he needs to remember that name for his next call to Dad and then scolds himself for being ridiculous - and she smiles at him in a way that makes her intentions clear.

 

"Hey,  _Castiel._ "

He backs off. The way she pronounces his name sends shivers down his spine. Not of the good kind, though.

She follows up and he presses himself against the wall. She leans in to whisper in his ear and he leans away.

"You know, you don't look half bad for people calling you a creep."

When she licks his earshell he flinches. He has never felt so weak in all his life.

"Don't." he says. His throat's tight, his lungs shrunken to half their size.

"Aww, don't say that. Come one, I know  _you've_ never done it before. Let's have a bit of a good time, alright?"

Her hand is back at his thigh but it doesn't stay there.

"No. Please, Anna, leave."

She grabs his crotch and squeezes. His breath hitches, panic rising. She however seems to interpret his reaction differently.

He doesn't fight her when she rips open his dress shirt, two or three buttons falling off in the process. Only shrinks a little when she scratches over his chest.

"You're always so polite. So sweet. Come on, open up."

She licks at his mouth, tries to get inside. It's the only thing he can do to keep his mouth firmly shut.

"Don't cry, baby. You're not staying a virgin for long."

He hasn't realised he is crying.

 

That's when Dean comes back in, laughter dying in his throat.

Still Castiel can't do anything to push her off. His knees feel weak. His hands clutch at the wall behind him. That's the end of it. Dean's going to kill him. Or he's going to kill himself.

Dean pulls Anna off of him and Castiel closes his eyes, trying and failing to steady his breathing.

"What the fuck was that?"

Anna answers, says something about that Castiel wanted it too. He doesn't really listen. Waits for Dean to beat him to a bloody pulp. For doing it with his friend.

"Get out."

Dean's voice is the only thing that gets through to him. He scrambles away from the wall, has to steady himself on the desk. A hand on his shoulder does the trick.

"Not you." Dean says and he's closer now. When Castiel looks over he has his back to Anna. Almost as if he were shielding him.

"Anna. Get out. Don't dare go near him again."

Anna calls them fags and creeps and tells Dean to get it up the ass, but she leaves.

 

_She_ does. Not Castiel. Dean wanted Castiel to stay.

Dean takes his hand away and Castiel hunches his shoulders, bracing himself for the impact of a fist. Nothing comes.

Just Dean's voice that tells him to calm down, to breathe. The hand on his shoulder reappears, guides him to the bed.

Dean sits down next to him, rubs his back in soothing patterns.

"Cas, it's alright. That bitch's gone. Come on, stop crying."

But he can't. Can't stop crying, sobbing. Dean's motions get hastier as if he's running out of options.

"Come on Cas, at least talk to me."

That he can do. He takes in a shuddering breath, then another. Starts talking.

"I should have liked this. Should have been grateful that at least someone's interested in me. I mean ... what kind of guy wouldn't like someone like Anna coming on to them?"

"Every guy who's got half a brain. But that's not it with you, isn't it? You're gay." Dean mumbles. It sounds so defeated that Castiel can't stop himself crying even more, his shoulders shaking like mad.

"Hey, hey. No. That's not what I meant, I mean, not like that. Shit, I'm not judging you here. Cas, look at me.  _Cas_ ."

 

Castiel raises his head if only to look at Dean astonished. He's been calling him Cas for the last ten minutes but only now he actually realises it. No one's ever called him Cas.

Dean smiles in a way that Castiel is sure is meant to be reassuring. It looks like half-grimace, half wax-figure.

"Not judging, okay?"

Cas nods. The tears have stopped flowing. The missing -tiel has done that he assumes.

 

He lets Dean make him a coffee. He lets him make it Irish.

Dean drinks his whiskey pure, while he's lounging on his bed, Castiel in his own. They talk.

About their fathers. Dean tells him that his father is a hunter but doesn't elaborate when Cas asks what kind. They talk about families. Dean promises to introduce him to his baby-brother one of these days. They talk about school. About music. About God.

Dean actually listens to what he has to say. Stares at him intently when Castiel tells him about the first time he got a clue that he might be gay. Laughs when Cas makes jokes.

So when dawn lights up their room instead of street lights, Castiel doesn't blame Dean when he falls asleep right in the middle of Castiel telling stories about the Heavenly Host.

 

From then on Dean waits for him before they go to classes. Keeps a spot free for Cas at lunchtime. Even if it means they're sitting alone.

Dean is the only person who knows he's gay. Not just suspects it, but knows it. And he's still spending time with him. As his friend.

 

As he promised, Dean introduces him to Sam. They go on a hiking tour in the park outside the city and rest on the top of the largest hill in the vicinity. They stay there until long past curfew, watching the stars, playing cards, drinking beer.

Maybe Dean is a bad influence on him. Before he met him he has never drunken any kind of alcohol before and now he barely feels the buzz a bottle of beer used to cause him.

He looks at Dean who keeps his eyes firmly on the sky to spot any shooting stars that Sam insists go by everytime he isn't looking.

He's beautiful. Not just attractive or handsome like other men are. Dean is something out of a dream. He's surrounded by an easy happiness that shows even when he's not smiling. It's in the way his eyes reflect the light, the way he stands with shoulders loose and hands in his pockets. The way his hand glide over his car like it's a love confession.

Sam catches Cas looking. Their eyes meet over the freckles over Dean's nose and Cas knows, _knows,_ that Sam has put two and two together. He wants to say something, defend himself, but he doesn't know what to say. The first friend he has ever had and he starts crushing on him. No wonder the others keep away from him. No wonder the other boys at school practically run when he's there. Dean has given him no mixed signals, has not flirted, nothing. And now he has a creep like Cas crushing on him. _And his brother knows_.

He's ready to bolt, run and never look back, skip town, leave the country, anything, when Dean's hand touches his own.

„Hey, Cas, look. Shooting stars. Whole bunch of them.“

There are shooting stars. They glimmer, a bright burst, before they disappear, sometimes three or four at a time. Sam tells them to make wishes, one for every shooting star and Dean closes his eyes and makes a wish, grinning at the sheer silliness of it all.

Cas doesn't make a wish. He doesn't need to.

Because Dean still holds his hand.


End file.
